


Our fates have never been kind

by Avaetin



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Gen, a life in exchange for a life saved, trying to defy against an established fate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:17:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5031727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avaetin/pseuds/Avaetin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was in that moment, when the son of Hades was clinging to his life by a mere thread, that he realized how it was hopeless to defy a fate that has long been set in stone. It was in that moment, when the son of Poseidon was desperately reaching for him, that they realized that this was just another tragic fate they had to see to the end and neither of them could escape.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our fates have never been kind

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay, so I won’t want to spoil anything here so any questions will be answered (if asked) at the end.  
> I can't really suggest a song to listen to while reading this, but I did listen to Ciuffi Rossi's cover (which you can find on their facebook page) of Stitches by Shawn Mendes when I was writing this. So yeah... /looks away/
> 
> This work is both available on my tumblr and fanfiction account.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Percy Jackson and its characters for they belong to Rick Riordan.

**_Our fates have never been kind_ **

* * *

_“You can never escape your fate once it has been set in stone. The moment by which you defy it, is the moment by which you reject the world. Every action has its consequences; every life spared requires an equivalent exchange.”_

Hanging by a mere thread.

That was the best description by which the son of Hades could depict the predicament he was forced to step into. A trap, he thought to himself. A trap that he had to undoubtedly step into as a mere bargaining chip. Nico sensed the Morai breathing down against his skin, prickling on every inch of his battered and bruised body that ached from being fatigued and famished.

A sharp tug onto his hand had him suppress a whimper of pain from escaping his lips, his teeth digging firmly and drawing blood that coated his tongue and temporarily quenched his thirst. The pain that coursed through every fiber of his being was excruciating; was consuming his energy ravenously. Yet, he simply tightened his grip on the hand of the dangling daughter of Athena as he clutched more firmly onto a protruding step along the edge, refusing to consider her request to release her body onto the gaping hole on the floor that led to the hell that was Tartarus; the hell that he had narrowly escaped once.

It had been a temporary relief when the son of Jupiter managed to free the bonds that tangled on one of her ankles and subsequently pulled her towards the safety that was of their ship.  _I’ll be back for you soon_ , Jason had informed of him, but Nico di Angelo was well aware to believe such empty promises. The son of the Jupiter would be back, but not for him. At least, not anymore should he stick to his words.

Perseus Jackson knelt on the edge, extending his hand desperately towards the son of Hades. It was so close yet so far, a mere few inches that he had to reach but could not as his other arm had finally given up on him. His senses were deteriorating by the second, and it was  _that_  moment that had him cling onto the pain for a little while longer.

“Nico, your hand! Give me your hand!” Percy bellowed from above him, almost flailing his extended hand in his desperation to reach the son of Hades.

_“You cannot defy your fate. It shall be done.”_

The haunting snipping of shears echoed from within his head, inducing that much needed cause for him to strain his senses to last a little while more longer. Hopelessness had long settled onto his features, and he did not attempt to cover it with his guarded façade. He had no reason to lie, not when reality came crashing down in front of his eyes in the form of his unchanging fate.

Nico knew that Percy could see that he had no choice but to give up a fruitless fight; that he would not be grasping onto that extended hand anytime sooner. But the son of Poseidon was stubbornly reaching out for him, incessantly begging for him to close that distance of a mere few inches.  _A mere few inches_ , Nico laughed on the back of his head. A mere few inches was a deciding factor for his life. A small distance, that was, that he was forbidden to cover.

“You know, you never did keep any of the promises you made with me,” Nico rasped, channeling all that remained of his meager energy to hang on for a few seconds more, his hand twitching erratically with the exertion. “But that’s okay. I mean, we’re okay. It taught me to be independent; to count on myself when I have no one else to go to.”

_You’re an equally selfish and selfless bastard. You risk your life for others, placing them on a pedestal above your own as if their lives have much worth than yours. You are an irrational idiot most of the time, placing your faith on people whom you are loyal to, without thinking of consequences – best and worst. You are an oblivious moron who takes things as he sees them, and blindly follows your guts without knowing what trouble it could bring forth. And I…_

“Nico! Stop wasting time and grab onto my hand!” Percy bellowed out; whether in anger or pain, Nico could not fathom. Not when his eyes were slipping close. Not when his body was giving up on him.

The son of Poseidon had one of his hands outstretched to his direction, the other firmly grasping onto something by his back for stabilization and to secure that he would not fall in. In a split second, the son of Hades scrutinized the multiple cuts that adorned the grime and blood-stained hand, and callouses from years of being that knight in battered armor on the beck and call of the Olympians. Nico registered how much force Percy was exerting, reaching out desperately for his hand.

_… I love all of that about you._

On the back of his head, Nico heard with crystalline clarity the snipping of shears; a haunting premonition of his fate that was finally sealed. It was never a matter of intervention as the fate of a living being was not his to dictate. It had always been a matter of options, choosing which would suit best to any future circumstances, but would always conclude on the same note.

At that moment, there was that offer of two options: to grab on and drag Perseus Jackson to hell, or to suffer once more on his own. But, there was only one conclusion that was written as his fate.

There was only one option he knew he must take.

_I wish I could have stayed beside you a little while longer._

Debris plummeted towards the gaping hole on the floor, and it was just a matter of minutes before it completely collapsed and would inevitably drag the sea demigod. In the back of his mind, Nico thought how cliché the situation was. There was no saving him. He would even bet that Percy was well aware of his fate; that he could hear the haunting snipping of shears on the back of his own mind.

_I wish I had more time with you._

“This world needs a hero, Percy Jackson. Be that hero; the hero you always have been. Everything will be fine,” Nico breathed in a ragged voice, his throat burning with increasing intensity. He was parched, fatigued, and…

He knew he would not make it a second time.

 _Everything will be fine?_  Who was he actually convincing at that point? Who was he fooling with those repetitively used white lies? No one. Not even the daughter of Athena would be convinced with his little white lies if she were to scrutinize his battered frame with those intense silvery grey eyes.  _Ah_ , those eyes which he had tried in vain so many times to loathe; to despise. That sole being that partook in crushing his soul into indistinguishable smithereens, leaving not a scintilla of his soul intact. Yet, there was not a portion of him that could hate her for the damage she had unintentionally done. Just as there was not a portion of him that could hate Percy Jackson for how his unfulfilled promises ruined his life.

 _I wish I could have at least fought for you_.

“I’m not going to lose you too, Nico! I promised Bianca I would keep you alive!” Percy exclaimed.

A warm liquid trickled down his cheeks, and Nico noticed for the first time that the son of Poseidon was fruitlessly forcing his tears – his  _fears_  – back as he desperately reached for his hand that was a few inches away.

It was so close, yet so far; like their fates. Never intertwined, but parallel unto the very end.

And this was it. This was  _the end_.

_I wish I could have shown you how much I was desperately in love with you._

“I was never yours to lose, Percy. Though I always wished that you could have been mine to keep,” he mustered a weak and pained smile, knowing for a fact those shears were seconds away from cutting his thread.

This was not how the son of Hades imagined how he would confess, though the act of it never did cross his mind until then. Was it to dispel of any last minute regrets? He had a lot of that in mind to be honest; a lot of mistaken decisions that he regretted and wished that he could take back. But there was no time –  _he_  had no time.

The son of Hades expected shock, disbelief, doubt, and perhaps repulsion, but he received none of what his expectations had laid out for him.

“No! You don’t get to say that! You get back up here and you tell me properly!” Percy growled in a voice that was a mix of irritation and  _immeasurable_  pain, as if the mere few inches that he could not close was killing him from the inside. It did, but Nico di Angelo would only know a limited extent as teardrops relentlessly cascaded down his cheeks, like raindrops in a light drizzle.

In that moment with the debris plummeting at an alarming rate towards that gaping hole which he dangled from on an unstable edge, he might have shed his fair share of tears; they might have mingled with those that Percy continuously shed. But, in that moment where nothing else mattered in his world but the sight of his childhood hero – of his favorite game, Mythomagic, brought to  _life_. Nothing else mattered in that precious moment, but those glassy sea-green eyes gazing at him as if he was the center of his world for  _once_ , and he could actually see himself and  _only_  himself being reflected back.

How long had he wanted that? How long had he desperately coveted for it? Far too long, and far too  _late_.

“I’m sorry.”

He let go.

The howling of the winds rushing past his ears could only drown so little of the shout that left the son of Poseidon’s lips, the sound of his name from those pale and heavily chapped lips was a saccharinely-sweet lullaby and a requiem at the same note. Yet, it had his lips curling in a content smile as he fell through like a dead weight to the hell he would never escape from. His eyes never fleeted from the son of Poseidon, even as his figure disappeared as the son of Jupiter forcibly dragged Percy’s resisting frame back to safety; those electric blue eyes casted to the ground and teeth gritted in immeasurable shame.

Before his eyes, Nico envisioned the family that he had lost; of his mother and sister, and perhaps the half-sibling he so briefly knew. He envisioned his previous mundane life; the life that he was certain he would trade once more for the life he had now if he was to be given a second chance at life.

 _“You cannot defy your fate. It is everything that there is set in stone. For the life that you have saved, an equivalent sacrifice must be paid in return.”_  The cruel yet hushed verdict resonated clearly in his mind.

His vision blurred with the remaining tears that slipped past his slowly hollowing eyes, never trickling down his pale cheeks as the wind partially pushed them up, leaving a trail of tears to fall along with his body down to hell.

 _I don’t want to die yet_ , was the thought that constantly raced through his head, yet he begged no one – not even the gods – not to condemn and resign him completely to his tragic fate that he would have to see until the bitter end. Not when the life on his cold dark brown eyes faded slowly into nothing. Not when his heart pulsed – once,  _twice_  – before permanently stopping.

As his life was slowly drained from what remained of his battered frame, his sight was plagued of nothing but that comforting hue of those sea-green eyes.

When the shears snipped in a single fluid motions at the thread that was of his life, the color faded on the back of his eyes, and the firm tone of the Morai breathed last on his head.

_“A life for a life._

_It is done.”_

.

.

.

_finisce l’amore_


End file.
